Just One Towel
by Rosssse
Summary: Another short oneshot. Dean and Sam come back covered in mud from destroying a ghost. Dean's waiting for Sam to get out of the shower discovering there is a shortage of towels... Wincest, fluff. Reviews are really beneficial, thanks x


**Just One Towel**

**Not totally sure about how well I've written this, but anyway, enjoy :D  
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"Sammy! Open up... come on!" Dean begged, banging his fists against the bathroom door. "I thought you were joking when you said it was a race to the shower. I stink!" He exclaimed, wrinkling his nose at the stench coming from his clothes and skin.

"I'm almost done Dean, one sec," Sam shouted, his voice muffled by the splash of running water, "It's just that ghost practically basted us with all that manure. And anyway, you know I can't get clean with you in my shower," he added, the smirk audible in his tone of voice, bringing a smile to Dean's lips.

"True." Dean agreed, grinning. "Just hurry up," he said, peeling of his compost soaked clothes, and dumping them in a bag with Sam's. "How come we had to fight the ghost with green fingers..." he grumbled out load, the overwhelming smell of rotting mud and dung making him retch.

"I'm done Dean, your turn," Sam said, appearing from the steam filled bathroom.

"At last– well hello Sammy!" Dean smirked, catching sight of his brother, a small hand towel held carefully over his crotch.

"Yeah, funny, I know. There were no towels, okay?" Sam said; blushing slightly and shuffling towards the bed for the full-sized version folded on top of the sheets.

Dean laughed and snatched it out of reach. "Nu-uh, little bro, this is mine. Have fun!" He smirked maliciously, whipping his brother's bare, wet arse before disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door.

"You'll pay for that Dean!" Sam shouted, thumping his fists on the door and rubbing the painful red mark.

"Whatever," he replied; slipping off his boxers and stepping into the cubicle, turning on the shower and letting hot, streaming water run down his body. Dean sighed, his muscles relaxing and the dirt gradually washing off his skin and out of his hair.

After five more minutes of scrubbing, the water beginning to run cold, Dean hopped out of the shower, drying his hair and body before leaving the room.

"Where's this revenge of yours then Sammy?" Dean asked his brother, his hands gripped cautiously on the towel wrapped around his waist.

Sam was standing in just boxers and an open shirt; "nah, I forgive you," he said, walking towards his older brother with a far too innocent look on his face for Dean's liking.

"No..." Dean began, backing up against the bathroom door, "where's the catch?" He grasped the towel tighter, watching Sam warily as he drew closer, a few beads of water rolling down his chest irresistibly.

"There isn't one," Sam replied, pulling his rigid brother into a passionate kiss and forcing his tongue into his mouth roughly.

Dean relaxed, letting Sam's tongue dominate their kissing before pulling away; "what a punishment," he smirked sarcastically, sliding his hand up his younger brother's torso and round his neck, leaning in again, feeling Sam's hands on his sides.

He broke their kiss after a few minutes. "Sammy, you've gone soft," Dean remarked, grinning: he had his brother wrapped around his little finger these days. Running his free hand through Sam's damp hair, he started kissing along his jaw line.

"Really?" Sam asked, yanking Dean's towel from around his middle and pushing him away.

Dean looked mortified, "Sammy," he warned, backing away from Sam; his hands reaching downwards and covering his crotch protectively.

"Revenge." Sam smiled malevolently.

"Damn it, you lied to me!" Dean said looking affronted, still walking away slowly his brother.

Sam approached Dean slowly, holding the towel ready, "and you've never done that, Agent Smith of the FBI?" He grinned, whipping his older brother rapidly as Dean made a dash for the bed.

"Son of a bitch, Sam!" He yelled, his arse smarting painfully. Dean jumped over the bed to the bathroom to get a hand towel. He slammed the door behind him hard, a cold wind chasing round his legs.

This wasn't the bathroom...

"Sam!" Dean shouted, slamming himself against the front door of the motel, "let me in right now!" he whispered threateningly through the keyhole.

"Nope, I can't have you thinking I'm soft, Dean," he laughed, poking his head through the curtains and waving at his brother before disappearing again.

"Son of a bitch... SAMMY!" He wailed.


End file.
